


but i heard my own breath and i have to face that i'm still living

by Anonymous



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Character Death, Dismemberment, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pokemon Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Oneshot collection following a vague plot and theme (eventually)1: "Agent 000 regrets his breakfast choices."





	but i heard my own breath and i have to face that i'm still living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent 000 regrets his breakfast choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's warning: graphic depictions of violence, character death, pokemon death, vomiting, vore (i suppose), dismemberment, nongraphic amputation

It was far quieter in Resolution Cave than Special Agent 000 remembered. When he had been a schoolboy, he remembered skipping out on class with his friends to catch a ferry to Poni Island, and dare each other to race into the cave. Each time, they'd egg each other on to run further than the last. They’d all ended up with matching scratches on their arms from the teeming mass of groggy Golbat swarming around the ceiling of the cave and bruises on their shins from stumbling in the dark against stalagmites and roving Dugtrio. Back then the cave had echoed with the sounds of life: boys laughing, bats angrily flapping their wings, rocks falling and breaking on the ground.

The Golbat were gone now, even the sound of their wings flapping swallowed whole by a ravenous creature. Great gouges in the ground showed where it had desperately sought sustenance from the dirt. And still, the beast was hungry. UB-05-- “Glutton”, they’d called it. It had been so easy to contain the others. They’d grown complacent.

The three of them stood there, frozen, their faces starkly illuminated by the otherworldly blue glow emanating from the beast’s cavernous maw. Field Agent 100KR’s shaking thumb hovered over the trigger of his last Pokéball, unable to condemn his last Pokémon to the fate of its comrades, which were scattered across the ground in such a shape not even a Pokécenter could heal them.

The battle was lost.

Later, in a shouting match they’d both regret for the rest of their lives, 000 would say that hesitance had cost them their partner’s life. But they both knew this was not true. She was already dead from the moment they walked into the cave. Bait was always meant to be devoured.

There was a single, dreadful shriek as it took her, and then its mouth snapped shut.

 

The cave grew dark again as the creature began to chew, its jaws opening and closing with a terrible grinding sound mixed with the squelch of ruined flesh. She was no longer screaming. It was clear that the Faller was already beyond saving, but the way her arm dangled out lifelessly between the monster’s great golden-yellow teeth had Special Agent 000 lunging forward, his outstretched hand reaching towards her limp fingers in fruitless hope. She had no family, no friends outside of the International Police, but he’d be damned if he just let her vanish like that without a trace. He wasn’t an optimist or an idiot, he knew there was no chance he would save her. 

So when he reached to clasp her bloody hand in his own, he knew that it was only so that they’d have something left of her to bury.

As 000 felt something brush against the back of his calf, he realized he’d made a fatal mistake. The beast had pincers on its grasping tongues, and even as his fingers laced around her doomed palm he could feel himself growing weightless and his legs being lifted up off the ground. The more he struggled, the deeper the sharp points of its tongue dug into his leg, barbs catching in his flesh and keeping him trapped. He was fixed in midair, his hand caught between its teeth and his legs pinioned by its twin tongues. Only his right arm was free, left to dangle several feet above the ground. 100KR had finally found his wits and scrambled back to relative safety, though of course the creature was fully occupied with its newest meal.

 

The monster’s cavernous mouth opened up again in a burst of blue light, so bright 000 had to shut his eyes. 100KR had found his commlink and was shouting for backup, as if screaming louder would get help there any sooner. Wait, the screaming--

It wasn’t 100KR’s voice desperately begging for backup, screaming itself hoarse. It was his own.

The Faller’s hand vanished into its jaw, pulling his outstretched arm in with it. The first row of teeth closed down on his wrist, the sickening crunch of bone quiet in comparison to his choking sobs. He was an elite agent of the International Police, he wasn’t supposed to _cry_ , he thought to himself. A second thought: she had been an elite too, promoted to the top of the Supernormal division faster than any in her field before. And look where it had taken her. A third: maybe she was lucky. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to suffer.

There was a popping sound as one of the pincers enclosed around his left leg twisted around and yanked upwards, pulling his hip out of its socket. He knew his leg wasn’t supposed to bend like that, and when he glanced down, he could see that something white and jagged was poking out through the fabric of his blood-soaked trousers. His sense of balance pitched sideways, and acid filled his sinuses as he gagged and the hard-boiled eggs 100KR had made for him that morning in the motel coffeepot bubbled out through his nose and mouth. His throat felt tight even as he coughed up the last of it, more thin foamy mucus than breakfast at this point. Tapus above, his last meal on this earth was going to be 100KR’s disgusting coffee eggs he’d only accepted because 100KR’s unhappy face was even harder to bear than the stale taste of motel coffee on his eggs. He’d always thought his last meal would at least be something he enjoyed eating. He hadn’t realized he was going to fucking die today.

He didn’t want to die. 

A second row of serrated teeth closed down near his elbow. Up close, he could see that its golden teeth were stained red at the edges by his blood. It was odd how detached he felt from the experience. Maybe the adrenaline had kicked up another notch. His heart was beating faster and faster in his dry throat. He could barely feel where his legs were anymore. 

He was going to die.

Like all members of the International Police, 000 had been trained to withstand magnitudes more pain than the average civilian. Certain gangs of interest had become well-known in recent years for torturing their captives. But this was pain so unimaginably intense that he could no longer tell where his body ended and the pain began. His sense of self had become diffuse; there was no more meaningful input from his senses other than the red of his blood and the ringing in his ears, the beast’s roar surrounding him. He prayed that 100KR had done the sensible thing and left him for dead. 100KR didn’t need to see 000’s terrible last moments before he went the way of their other partner.

Everything started to go blurry and dim with black spots swallowing up the edges of his vision as he watched his arm fall free from the creature’s maw, stained red and oddly truncated. The beast only had him dangling by his legs now. Set off balance, the ground rushed closer and closer, until suddenly his forehead smashed against a rock and everything went thankfully dark.

* * *

He woke up to fluorescent lights and the mechanical beeping of a heart monitor.

They told him, afterwards, that once the Faller had fully vanished into its gut, the beast began to attack itself, desperate to harness the wormhole energy she harbored. It was a simple creature, they said, and could not understand that though she bore the Ultra Wormhole’s taint, the energy surrounding her would never bring it back home from this strange and terrifying land. This energy, and his lack of it, was what led it to drop his broken and mangled body on the cave floor, ignoring it in favor of the last burst of wormhole energy her corpse harbored. It was what had saved his life. If he could even still call what he had left a life. He was only the leftovers of the man who’d been chewed up and spit out by the third-deadliest single Pokémon the International Police had ever documented.

_She had a name_ , he wanted to scream in their faces. He wanted to sit up in his hospital bed and grab them by the shoulders and fucking shake them until they understood. He’d only ever known her by a code name, but he knew that she’d been a person, with a life, and a name. She wasn't just another death statistic for the quarterly review. But when he tried to push himself up to sit, his hands failed him. It felt as if they just passed right through the hospital mattress.

He looked down, and his hands were gone, smooth scarred stumps at his elbows left in their place. The shape of his body under the hospital blanket cut off abruptly at mid-thigh. He tried to wiggle his fingers, only to be met with blank air and a tingling discomfort where his hands  _ should _ have been. Where his hands weren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on the daruma!nanu art by inuqro as well as several mp100 darumob threads by homie


End file.
